Emma and Killian (whoever we may be)
by Farawayland
Summary: Drabbles focused around Captain Swan. Suggestions for prompts are welcome (AU, Canon, etc.), though my main pairing is strictly CS. The goal here is frequent updates and chapters under 750 words each. Ratings will vary and be listed in the beginning of each chapter. Personal prompts will come from a variety of prompt generators online.
1. Words on the Wind

**Prompt:** "I'm not really surprised that you murdered him"

 **Rating:** T

 **Setting:** Season 2 Episode 15: Canon divergent scene

* * *

"I'm not really surprised that you murdered him," she whispered, each word that fell from her lips a pardon he did not deserve, though he would take them all the same.

He was nothing if not a pirate.

"I'm not gonna lie—you'd know anyways, wouldn't you?" she asked, her footfalls steady against the rocking of his ship as she moved to stand beside the helm, not bothering to allow him an answer to her question (they both knew what it would be) before she continued. "I _should_ be angry. I should have knocked you out and left you in New York, or at least cuffed you below deck, but…he really _did_ deserve it—"

The volume of her voice had steadily dropped as she spoke, her words barely discernible even though she stood a mere arm's length away as he guided the _Jolly_ back to Storybrooke. Henry was safely distracted below deck by Hook's insistence he explore the trappings of a real pirate ship, and though there was no one else aboard to hear her, he understood that it was harder to admit out loud that you'd fallen than it was to suffer the realization in the quiet of your mind.

"—and more than that," she cleared her throat and took a step closer, her fingers reaching and pressing firmly against his arm, pulling his gaze first to the pale arc of creamy skin over black leather, and then to the resolute acceptance of her gaze. "I _wanted_ him dead. When I realized what you'd done, I didn't _care_ that it was my job as Sheriff to protect him. I just felt…relief. I'm glad he's gone. He was a danger to Storybrooke, and I'm glad he won't be around to meddle in my life—in _Henry'_ s life—anymore."

"I won't lie to you either, Swan—we both know how _that's_ gone in the past. I'm pleased we've finally come to an agreement on this. It will certainly make my stay in Storybrooke much simpler."

"You're staying?"

"Aye." He dragged his gaze slowly to where her fingers still clutched his arm, lingering for only a moment before he sought the green of her eyes once more. "I think I may have reason enough to do so, don't you agree, Swan?"

She didn't answer him, but there was a thoughtful lean to her head and a small, resigned smile at the corner of her lips that he found encouraging. They were both perceptive, and he'd known for some time that there was something between them. Perhaps now with the Crocodile out of the way he could finally set out to discover what that might be.

"There's something else, Hook. There was a man in New York…"

He was sure Emma had noticed the tension in his muscles as his grip tightened on the helm, but she merely stroked the leather of his coat reassuringly and continued. "He may try to get to Storybrooke now that Gold is dead."

"I take it you'd prefer for that _not_ to happen, then?"

"Yeah. Painful history. He's Henry's father and he…he left me to rot in jail for his crime."

Her eyes finally left his, searching the horizon as if it held her answers. She's an open book, and it's as simple as breathing for him to make out the etchings of loss and resentment on her features. He finds a new hatred in his heart for whomever had caused her such pain.

"That's bad form," Hook muttered darkly, quelling the anger that seethes beneath his skin whenever he is confronted with the cowardice of another. "I know I've said this before, Swan, but I think we make quite the team, and you've my word I'll do everything I can to keep this man away from you and your lad."

She nods slowly, her fingers finally leaving his arm. For a moment he feels their loss, perhaps far more than he should, but then his heart soars with something long forgotten as she brings them to his face and tenderly brushes his cheek.

As she turns and heads back below deck, her parting words are a final gift on the wind.

"Thank you, Killian."

* * *

 _A/N: Suggestions for prompts are more than welcome, though I do not guarantee that I will work on, or be interested in, each one. Whatever inspires me will take the lead there. Please leave reviews, thoughts, support, critiques, or questions if you have any. The entire purpose of this series of drabbles is to prevent myself from getting to caught in details, wording, and plot. It is writing for the sheer joy of actually banging something out, so hopefully I will be updating every other day or so. Wish me luck!_


	2. Let them Sail

_A/N: Well, I've already broken the promise to myself that I would try to write more drabbles to help encourage my muse, and then I've followed it up with going over my word limit. Ah, well. I don't suppose anyone will be terribly upset about a few extra words. I hope you enjoy._

 **Rating:** K+

 **Setting:** AU, Enchanted Forest.

* * *

He watches the couple from his place at the edge of the meadow, the great shadow of the forest's edge embracing him within its enduring, earthy gloom. A stray wind teases the edge of the wood, darting amongst the low-hanging boughs and tangling in his dark locks before fleeing back to the safety of the open meadow.

His breath is caught in his throat, his body so still he may very well be a statue.

He watches.

The couple meanders through the swaying grasses, her fingers trailing over the feathered heads of wild grains, his arm wrapped securely around the waist of her gown, the burgundy of his doublet jarring against the soft cream that cloaks her.

Though he cannot hear the words, he knows the man must have said something that amuses her, the girl swinging her gaze upwards, her golden curls slipping across her back like a sunlit waterfall, a wide grin reddening the full apple of her cheeks.

The grasses meld behind them, a sea of burnished green and flickering whites that close the path to any who would follow— _to him_.

The tingling, cold fingers of fear creep along his spine.

He watches as the girl raises her hand, her fingers trailing over the smooth expanse of the man's jaw, perhaps trembling slightly as they pause at the curve of his lips.

The world seems to heave and still all at once.

He watches as the man smiles and leans forward, his untamed mop of brown curls slanting forward and shrouding his features even as he presses his lips against those of the girl beside him. Her hands reach upward and tangle at the back of his head, pulling the man more firmly against her.

An untamed swell of rage courses through his body, his hook twitching beside him as he takes a single step from the shadows, each breath he had been holding back whispering demands in his ears.

 _Draw your cutlass, you fool! Carve a path through the bloody meadow and rip that scoundrel from stem to stern for daring to lay a hand on her._

He takes another step forward, his heart beating wildly in his chest, his pulse fluttering like a mad beast beneath his skin.

He is about to make good on his baser urges when he feels a familiar weight settle on his arm, a familiar caress, the scent of lilies and the sea drawing a calmer version of himself to the surface.

"Killian," the woman behind him whispers, her arm sliding around the crook of his elbow as she moves beside him and tucks her head against his shoulder.

His hand falls from his cutlass.

"Emma," he returns, his voice rough and wounded as he presses a sad kiss to her soft crown of golden curls. "She _lied_ to me, love…I had to see—"

"And what would you have done if you'd known, Killian, or would you have forbid it?"

"Forbid it? You bloody well know I've never been able to _forbid_ our daughter anything, Emma. Fierce pirate I may be, but when it comes to her…" his words fade into nothingness, his jaw tightening as he watches their daughter and her suitor race towards a tree in the distance. "I'm her _father_ …I'm supposed to protect her from…"

"Dashing rapscallions? _Scoundrels_?" Emma asks, her voice rising in pitch as she tightens her grip dramatically on her husband's arm—as if there could, perhaps, be some such ne'er-do-well lurking nearby.

"Aye. Something like that," Killian murmurs, reaching cautiously round the back of his head with his hook to ease the itch starting behind his ear, Emma thoroughly occupying his only hand with the gentle grasp of her own. "Tell me though, love, why here? Of all the places to seek solitude with a suitor, why would she bring him here, to the field I chased her in as a wee lass, to the oak I rocked her to sleep beneath?"

"Because her happiest moments were here. She's spent more days than not aboard the _Jolly_ with you, or waiting dockside for your return, but she always had to share you—with me, with the crew, with Liam. Those days where you took her here and taught her how to wield a sword, how to read, they were the rare days where it was just her and her Papa. Those were the days she was happiest, and now—" Emma paused, turning her gaze to her husband and taking his jaw in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes "—now she wants to find that happiness for herself, just as _we_ found _each other_. Every man she's ever considered, she measures against _you_ , Killian."

Killian nodded, swallowing roughly and stepping forward so he could lean his forehead against Emma's.

"We've done well with her, haven't we, love? With both of them?"

"Aye," Emma murmured, her eyes smiling as she presses a chaste kiss against his lips. "We've set them on a good course, Captain. Now we need to let them sail."


End file.
